


A Dozen Miles High

by that_which_yields



Series: Smut Central [6]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Flight Stewardess/Business Man, Light Bondage, M/M, Mile High Club, Preventers, Unrepentant Man Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 17:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_which_yields/pseuds/that_which_yields
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the GW Prompts series: Trowa is flying home from an undercover Preventers mission. The steward has an inclination to muss his pretty, pin-striped suit. 2x3, one-shot. For miss_murdered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dozen Miles High

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miss_Murdered](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Murdered/gifts).



> This is what happens when you ask for prompts on tumblr. 2x3, one-shot, gratuitous smut. As Miss M would say, unrepentant man smut. You were warned.

Trowa slings his bag into the overhead compartment, wincing as a heavy thud reminds him of the expensive laptop ensconced inside. Whatever. It’s not as if the company won’t replace it. They’ll scold him for battering another piece of replaceable equipment, and he’ll stare at them with his neutral, utterly unimpressed expression until they throw their hands up in exasperation. As Duo would say, and often does, at least he didn’t blow it up. This time.

The slim cut suit jacket slides from his shoulders, carefully folded and draped over the empty seat beside him. The one advantage of a red eye is that he seems to be the only passenger – if not on the plane, at least in first class. Trowa Barton was absolutely not above hacking into the airline systems to give himself a better seat. He loosens his emerald green tie, tossing it down beside his jacket, and finally sinks into the plush cushion with a muffled sigh.

It has been a damnably long week, his body informs him, as he relaxes into the seat without a care for the wrinkling of his button-down shirt. He cuffs the sleeves with a few swift twists of his wrists, exposing his forearms and the expensive watch Quatre had given him last Christmas. He told his friend that he didn’t have anywhere to wear it, but Quatre smiled in his own way and told him to keep it regardless. Here he was, only a couple months later, serving undercover as a corporate representative for a new AI system. His mission had been to sniff out those interested in recreating ZERO … as with most of these trips, putting out ‘feelers’ with the undercover tech crowd, he’d gotten polite refusals or false promises.

It was a waste of time, so he’d packed up his belongings and headed home. Duo had stayed behind, in his guise as a member of the underground, to see what rumors were stirred up in Trowa’s wake. They worked well, as a team. Worked well on missions and worked well in bed. And out of bed… non-traditional places to fuck were Trowa’s specialty. He was still working on trying to get Duo to fuck him in the lion’s cage at the circus… something about under no circumstances would Duo’s balls ever get within teething distance of a giant rabid furball. Nevermind that the lions most definitely did not have rabies.

The pilot mangles some message about take-off and Trowa lets his eyes slide closed. He wonders how long Duo will linger before coming home. How long before he can pin the braided man’s slender body beneath his own, finding all of the hidden places that draw those delicious moans from Duo’s lips. The plane drifts forward, beginning its take-off sequence, and the heady thrill of flying combined with the memory of Duo’s sweat slicked skin sliding against him has him squirming subtly in his seat.

It’s too bad they had to destroy the Gundams. Getting head while piloting would have been _so_ fucking erotic.

He sighs, resigning himself to the long, sexless days ahead. Post-mission sex is always the best sex, too, with the tinge of ‘thank God you’re not dead’ desperation. By the time Duo returns, all of the euphoric hormones will have faded and they’ll be consigned to regular old reunion sex. Don’t get him wrong, Trowa is never going to turn down sex… but some situations are definitely more exciting than others.

The measured tread of rubber-soled shoes alerts him to the stewardess’ approach. He doesn’t bother to slit his eyelids apart, but a furrow appears between his eyebrows. He’d seen a glimpse of uniform back in coach, heard the polite and falsely bright greeting as a passenger or two entered. His entrance had gone unnoticed, unrecognized. He could easily have placed himself anywhere in the first class compartment, but had chosen the correct seat out of some strange sense of morality. Where had the stewardess come from?

A familiar voice purrs into his ear. “Good evening, Sir, and welcome aboard Virgin Airlines. Are you sure this is the correct flight for you?”

His eyelids rise lazily, revealing the dancing violet gaze of his partner. Duo wears the neatly pressed trousers and button-down polo of the airline’s uniform, topped off by a charming crimson neckscarf. Trowa raises an eyebrow at him.

“Not that I’m at all complaining, you sneaky bastard, but what the hell are you doing here?”

Duo flashes him a cocky grin. “I gave the stewardess food poisoning.”

Trowa shakes his head in disbelief. “Why?”

“Well ya see…” Duo leans in, reaching out to flick the buttons of Trowa’s shirt open. “My lover has this thing for kinky sex. An’ I heard he might just want to check flying off of his bucket list. He used to be a pilot, you know. We _do_ hope that you enjoy your flight.”

Trowa shivers slightly as the chilled cabin air hits his bare chest, exposed by the shirt fabric sliding off of his chest. Duo sashays away, hips swaying in the confines of the tight black dress pants, and Trowa slides a hand down to adjust himself. The braided man returns with a blanket in hand, snaps it sharply in the air before draping it over Trowa’s body. A wicked grin crosses Duo’s features as he straddles Trowa, one clever hand jabbing the button in the arm of the seat until Trowa finds himself reclining. Meshing their bodies from hip to collarbone, he leans in, breath hot against Trowa’s ear.

“Mm, baby, I missed you… and you’re _so_ hard already. I bet flying gets you all worked up, doesn’t it? How many people did you fuck in Heavyarms, hmm? The rumble of the engines, the raw power in the palms of your hands, fuck, it was so fucking sexy.” Trowa is panting, needy little gasps hissing through his teeth. His hips roll involuntarily, arching into the pressure of Duo’s body.

Duo chuckles, dark and low, and a moan leaks from Trowa’s lips. “And that flightsuit you used to wear, jesus, all skintight and molded to your dick like it was painted on. I wanted to fuck you _so_ hard, every time you rode that zipline down. Used to dream about riding you in the cockpit.”

Trowa’s heartbeat stutters as his lover outlines every secret fantasy he’d ever dreamed, punctuating the throaty teasing with devastatingly accurate movements of his hips. His hands tighten convulsively at Duo’s waist eliciting a grunt of pleasure from the braided man. Duo, silent for the moment, presses wet kisses along his throat, hands mapping out the bared planes of Trowa’s chest. And Trowa, regaining his faculties in the brief respite from Duo’s mind-blowingly filthy mouth, smirks.

He wraps Duo’s braid around his hands, twice, and drags the man down his body. Duo lets out a startled mewl of protest but yields to the pressure, willingly retreating until he is level with the bulge in Trowa’s pinstriped slacks.

“Want something, baby?” He asks, hands already busy at Trowa’s belt. The zipper descends tooth by tooth, painfully slow, and Trowa tugs impatiently at Duo’s hair. Instead of quickening, Duo’s hands freeze, kneading the flesh beneath them.

“Impatient boy,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against the fabric over Trowa’s shaft and exhaling. The heat shoots straight through the expensive pants, through the black silk boxers, and straight through Trowa’s body into the pleasure centers of his fogged brain.

“Please,” Trowa gasps, arching up off the seat, unhinged by arousal.

“What do you want, Tro? Do you want me to wrap these pretty little lips around your dick? Mm, I remember just how you taste. It’s been too fucking long, I miss your cock filling my mouth. Is that what you want? You want me to suck you off, to blow your fucking mind?”

Trowa nods helplessly, writhing on the seat as Duo’s hands pull him out of his pants, beginning a teasingly slow rhythm. His hand clenches on the silken strands of Duo’s braid, other hand reaching down to caress Duo’s face. Duo presses a kiss into the center of his palm, tongue flickering out to lap at the skin. And then he resumes his attention where Trowa wants it most, the pulsing flesh standing proudly at attention. Duo drags his tongue across the crown, lapping eagerly at the heated head of Trowa’s dick. Trowa moans his agreement, hips jerking in supplication.

“Easy, baby,” Duo whispers. “There’s a dozen other people on this flight, and only a curtain to separate us.”

“Fuck,” Trowa, breathes, heat pooling in his groin. It’s even hotter, having Duo’s mouth on him with people less than ten feet away, knowing they might be discovered.

Duo traces a path up the length of Trowa’s shaft, tongue wrapping agilely across the throbbing vein. A stream of cold air flows in its wake, chilling the wet streak and sending goosebumps racing across Trowa’s skin.

“Stop fucking teasing,” Trowa snarls, clamping around the braid between his fingers.

Duo lifts his head, merriment dancing in his purple gaze. He licks his lips. “But you like it so much. You come so much harder if I make you wait.”

Despite his words, he bends his head to the task at hand, one hand ringing the base of Trowa’s cock as his mouth seals around the head, sliding down with cheeks hollowed until the suction turns Trowa’s vision white. His hips pump, completely out of his control, desperate to be even a meager inch further between Duo’s talented lips.

The familiar prickling at the base of his skull tells Trowa that he’s close, the roaring in his ears as his body surges towards climax. He tugs at Duo’s hair, anxious to get his attention. When Duo ignores him, utterly consumed in the task at hand, Trowa laces both hands near Duo’s scalp and drags the braided man up.

“Wait,” he pants, heaving air into his lungs. “Want to come with you inside me.”

A devilish smile curls Duo’s lips, swollen as they are from their punishing activity. “I love hearing you beg for it, Tro. Being reduced to whimpers from my tongue on your dick. Fuck, you’re so hot. Let me hear how much you want me.”

Trowa writhes beneath Duo, desperate and wanton, spreading his legs to emphasize his words. “Please fuck me, Duo. Need to feel you in me, feel you stretching me open. Want to wake up tomorrow with bruises and bite marks and fuck, don’t make me wait anymore. Please, baby.”

He trails off on a sharp inhale as Duo’s fingers find their target, inserted unerringly into his grasping hole. His head slams back against the seat as pleasure swamps him, as his vision goes red from the sheer ecstasy of Duo’s hands on his body.

“No time,” he pleads. “Now.”

Duo’s teeth sink into the joint of his shoulder and throat, squeezing until a whine of pleasure leaks from Trowa’s lips, the shimmer of seed visible at the tip of his cock. The braided man releasing him, lapping at the already bruised flesh, and growls in his ear. “You love the pain, don’t you? Cock-hungry whore.”

Trowa’s dick twitches eagerly at the stream of filthy words into his ear. “Yes,” he whines. “Just for you.”

“Damn right,” Duo snaps, pinning Trowa’s hands to the headrest. His fingers capture both of Trowa’s wrists, planting them into the cushioning, while his free hand fumbles at the discarded clothing. He retrieves Trowa’s favorite silk tie with a triumphant hiss, binding Trowa’s arms to the chair.

A concerned frown etches across Trowa’s face. “What if someone comes, baby?”

“If you keep fucking questioning me, it won’t be you. Trust me.”

When silence greets his ultimatum, Duo slides back to the edge of the seat, lifting Trowa’s legs until his is bent nearly in half. One ankle rests on Duo’s shoulder, the other hooked around his hip, his pants shoved down just far enough for Duo to penetrate him. Duo shifts his hips forward, pressing into Trowa until the head of his cock penetrates. And then he pauses, watching the pleasure-pain written across Trowa’s face. Pauses further, until the ecstasy is overwritten by frustration.

“Duo,” he pleads, his lover’s name a prayer on his lips.

“Don’t even,” Duo purrs, voice seductive and ever-so-slightly sadistic. “You love the slow burn, feeling each inch inside you, the heat from friction rising, the,” his hand shifts, eliciting a strangled moan from the man beneath him, “touch of my hand on your dick. You love every. Last. Second. Of this torture. And you look so fucking good.”

He begins to move, then, easily, his eyes fixated on Trowa, on the sweat beading along his lover’s brow, on the paralyzed drop of his jaw. On the way his hands flutter, bound and helpless, clawing at the fabric of the seat. Duo’s hand flexes, thumb grazing the tip to gather the stream of precum. The added lubrication to his strokes has Trowa bowed up off the seat, a muted scream bursting from his lips. Duo drops his free hand across Trowa’s mouth, grunting as the other man sinks his teeth into the meat of his palm to muffle his shrieks.

With a feral grin, Duo throws control to the wind and pounds relentlessly into him, hips pistoning and thrusting. He adjusts his angle, slamming into the spot that has Trowa howling loud enough that, even through the barrier of his hand, Duo fears that the other passengers will hear. He twists his hand, tightening his grip around his lover’s cock, and plunges into Trowa until the man climaxes with a hoarse cry, tears springing through his closed eyelids at the strength of his orgasm. The tightness of his body nearly slays Duo, who twitches his hips once more before emptying himself into Trowa with a satisfied moan. They both fall limp, muscles twitching with the after-effects of pleasure. Vision fogged with post-orgasmic euphoria, their limbs tangle together, sweat-slicked and overheated.

“Fuck,” Duo gasps, collapsing onto Trowa’s chest. He fumbles with numb fingers at the knots binding Trowa’s wrists, not bothering to lift his head. Trowa tugs at the tie, unhelpful, pulling the knot tighter in his attempts to assist until Duo sinks teeth into his chest, stunning him into stillness.

“Impatient prick,” Duo grumbles, finally managing to release the tie. 

Trowa rubs at his wrists, a sleepy smile on his face. He drops an affectionate kiss across Duo’s brow, reaching down to pull the blanket over them. “Remember that you like me that way,” he responds cheekily.

“Still not fucking you in the lion cage.”

**Author's Note:**

> If *you* want to choose what I write next, find me on tumblr at that-which-yields! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, I love you all!


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